The Loss of a Child: The Start of a Journey with PTSD and Gender Dysphoria

(Author’s note: I’m re-posting this essay as it is the pivotal point in my life. It cost me my life. What followed after this event was constant turmoil, and with the “help” of others (meaning just the opposite of course) I managed to screw up my life totally. I take that back, this one event screwed up my life forever.

I need to embrace the fact that I was not to blame, and that my thought process was always going to be influenced by what happened.

I’ve done my best and all in all there have been some very good times. Way too many bad.

I am letting this go.)

If someone were to call this minute and ask what I was up to, I’d have to bluntly say “I’m writing about being raped when I was 7.”

There that helped, it’s said and done. You don’t need to read on, but some of these details led to a lot of the problems…

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Frustration and the Inability to Heal

I’m overly frustrated today, as I find myself exhausted and down. A funk has set in, the shadow of a cloud is once again hanging over my head. Maybe it’s a reaction to lack of sleep for the next two nights, as restless legs have been keeping me up until 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning before I finally fall asleep. My body aches, but at least I’m not sick, meaning my gut seems fine.

Mrs. Kyd has been traveling, and during our nightly call I told her I could feel my depression coming on and that I was feeling down for no specific reason. Is it this unbearable lengthy winter we’re experiencing, or the loneliness I go through when she’s traveling? I don’t think so. Seasonal Affective Disorder? Hmmm…it certainly plays a role, but don’t think it would cause such ups and downs.

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The Three Appointments

Today is like most days. We head from winter to summer and the weather has turned.   Bright, sunny and 70 degrees. Great day for yard work or better yet fishing.

Of course I’m in an Uber heading to a hospital to see the eye surgeon.  I hope for the last time. The gas bubble is gone and I have about 50% of my sight restored.

Good time to write, the occasional pot hole creating typos along the way.  Will require a rewrite and edit but that’s the normal course of action,  no matter how or where written.

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Resilience and going forward

I found the above on a blog post somewhere while busying myself doing nothing.  You know when you’re just following a rabbit hole, clicking whatever strikes your fancy, and something just sticks.  Strikes a chord, whatever you’d like to call it.

The above little image was on a blog for people suffering from depression, about a thousand subscribers.  The blog has gotten to the point no one posts, so there’s a catchy little slogan posted everyday from the Moderators.

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My Un-healthy Existence

Chronic pain and PTSD:  Mental Illness and the toll on the human body

I should have put this down earlier, just to illustrate my insanity or that of the medical community.  Both probably.  I say my insanity as I realize the physical pain is exaggerated by my mental illness. Depression and chronic pain feed on each other.  

My health is not great, not even good really.   Yes, I realize some of it was simply caused by lack of exercise and proper nutrition, but more likely by consuming enough alcohol to kill millions of brain cells.

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Missing the signs: parental intervention

I don’t know how to phrase this, but after enduring 60 years of…what?…life?  I’m finding myself angry, disappointed.  Not surprising, the anger that is.    SARA…Shock Anger Rejection Acceptance.   If those are the stages of trauma I’m still stuck in stage 2.  

I hate to even go down half these paths in fear of sounding like a whiner.  But I’m angry.

Somebody could have helped me a long time ago, my parents is a good place to start.

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The push and pull

I can feel the pull, but am resisting the slide.

I’ve been told that we all have an inner voice as we talk through our thoughts in our own mind, an on-going conversation.  Even the sanest of the sane has this voice, their own, that is human nature.

We answer ourselves if need be, at times out loud to emphasis a point, or voice despair.

The questions comes more frequently, “What’s the matter, what are you worried about?”.  A simple unvoiced question of concern, to myself and no one else.

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PTSD – suggested treatment options

Here’s the list of currently available treatments recommended by the American Psychology Association, the approved methods of correcting or  managing the illness to reduce symptoms of PTSD. 

I’ve included the full link below, I simply wanted to share the fact that the types of treatments recommended are seemingly non-ending. *not a doctor!

I’ve simplified the list for ease of reading, but have included the Abstract below. 

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Depression and Chronic Pain

I’m laughing while I think to myself, “I’m trying….I’m trying real effing hard”

If you know me you’ve heard the laugh before, coupled with a slow shake of the head.

The pain is what will do me in. Well that’s a lie, my inability to tolerate the pain will do me in.

3:00 and I’m forced to retreat upstairs to lay on the bed with an iPad and a TV remote.  Alone.  When the dogs figure out I’m staying up here they’ll join me.

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